


Subway Luv

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Groping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: During the scene where Hiro freezes time on the subway in order to give Peter the 'save the cheerleader' message, in this canon divergence story, the strange atmosphere makes Peter so randy that he cannot concentrate on anything other than having sex with both Hiro and Mohinder as the many frozen onlookers watch. PWP. Set during Season One.





	Subway Luv

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2007 to Livejournal.

Everything was quiet and far too still - silence _was,_ and always _had_ been the absence of sound. But what they were faced with here was the very _opposite_ of having sound. The strange, unsettling, notion that the only noise that could _possibly_ exist had to be made by you. Or maybe somebody _else,_ someone unseen - though he couldn't see how that would happen. Glancing to his left, to a Mohinder that might as well have been _dead_ to the world, he couldn't imagine _who from._

He briefly considered taking advantage of the young Indian now, while he had the chance. As, despite his best efforts at flirting, he had made no headway back at the apartment. Better try later. Because time was being messed with here and sex should be the last thing on his mind. But when was it _ever_ for men of his age? However, this was something _more_ \- the strange atmosphere seemed to be controlling him, seemed to be making him so _desperate_ for something to  _cling_ to. The many blank-faced mannequins sent a chill down his spine. The lack of any new air circulating was positively claustrophobic; he felt like he would choke.  
  
His only hope in finding out _anything_ at all? Well, he was going to have to _ask._ "Hello?" he cried out. At first nothing, but then his answer came.

"My name is Hiro Nakamura, and I'm from the future," a small, dark figure spoke out from among the _dummies_. From the ridges of his silhouette, he appeared to be armoured somewhat and carrying a weapon on his back.

This wasn't normal and, it could _barely,_ not even under the circumstances of all what had happened lately, be described as such. Peter was quite worried but he let the giddiness of seeing a man time-travel overtake him - partly because it was so cool, but also because it confirmed his _place_ in all of this. Now he knew that he hadn't been fabricating these tales of flying, magic and special powers, he felt happy, if not a little overwhelmed.

"How do you do it?" Peter asked excitedly. The man wasn't impressed, and he made that quite clear. Petrelli soon realised that Nakamura didn't want to really explain that part of things, and yet he continued to try and make small talk with him. "I'm sorry, my name is--"

A voice shot out from nowhere, louder than before - like a spear spinning through the void, leaving emptiness in its wake. "I know who you are. I'm here to give you a message." He squinted, turned himself sideways, "You know... you look different without the scar." Peter wondered what he could have meant by that, but he couldn't help but feel he'd met this man _before -_ or _after_ \- _somewhere anyway_ \- it was difficult to judge from here, his mind and sense of memory so blocked.

All he knew was, he felt a history between the two of them. An illustrious one, of schemes and brave adventures. And, at least he hoped from the call of his hungry groin, sexual encounters. It seemed like he had known him all of his life. He could see them _together._ Were they destined to be lovers? Or did he merely feel so drawn to him now that he _wished_ them to be?  
  
"A Japanese guy on a tube train - should I be worried?" Peter tossed his head to one side, laughing. He wanted to lure him to his level of sexual depravity, though Hiro was confused by the statement. "I've seen a lot of movies online," Petrelli explained, "Where schoolgirls get touched up by strangers.' Their plaid skirts hiked up; their pert bottoms exposed as they are bent over the seats, eager to please every member of the gang. Elements of danger turned him on. The look of horror, combined with ecstasy and extreme gratification, was one he greatly desired to experiment with.

"Kind of exciting, don't you think?" he babbled on, "With all of those people - the only way you'd be able to get away with it, would be to stop _time_..." He grinned. But the sword-wielding warrior stayed where he was. His lower jaw remained emotionless, though his eyes smiled on its behalf and showed a display of interest.   
  
Life had taught Hiro to be strong. He'd come a long way from the shy Nakamura of Tokyo and now he regularly took his _chances,_ even when it took him out of his safety zone. Perhaps this guy really was _begging_ for some kind of sex with him. "Like I told you before," he ignored his ramble, "I really have something very important to tell you." Future Hiro was a calm and collected crusader. And he had all the time in the world, quite _literally_. He was willing to play this whichever way he had to in order to get the best results. After all, he needed to save the _cheerleader_ to save the _world._ So, he smoothed back those long bangs, tucked them over his ears and reached up on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips.

"That was _some_ message!" Peter gasped, "But I liked it..." Hiro's little beard had tickled his chin and brought about a giggle. "What about _him_ though?" he asked, regarding Mohinder. The Petrelli was an empath, meaning he could absorb the powers of those around him, but not in a destructive way - he was mimic, not a thief. And now, _he_ was thawed out, in this time which was frozen. But Mohinder couldn't move. And it wouldn't be fair leaving him out of all this, _would_ it?

Hiro lifted a hand and, with what seemed like a command, made it so. Rich colour filled his desaturated face. He spluttered and coughed like a newborn baby in its first moments out of the womb. "Extraordinary," Suresh cooed at his surroundings.

"Screw _that,_ " Peter pushed to the front, "It doesn't matter right now!" He didn't care about personal space anymore - this crazy situation had him so worked up. Instead, he pressed his lips to Mohinder's, ensuring that he instantly _forgot_ what he was saying - thus shutting him up. Because sometimes he really spoke _far_ too much. Pushing a tongue through his parted mouth, Petrelli held himself secure by putting his hands around the safety rails of the subway train, for steadiness - as if they were _ever_ going to move. The Japanese man then crouched to the floor and got to work on the the professor's pants, hurriedly unzipping them.  
  
Contrary to what they may have _believed,_ Dr. Suresh was actually up for what they had in mind, leading Peter to wish that he should have tried it with him earlier. The American pulled away from the scene and took a step backwards, watching the two of them play.

Periodically, the smaller man's concentration would lapse and his powers would falter, leaving the world to its own devices once again and for time to catch up with him. "I'm sorry," Hiro slipped the hard member from his mouth, "I let my guard down..." The train leapt in shock from the tracks, electricity crackling beneath - as electric as the _connection_ between the three of them now. And, for a just a _few_ seconds, the passengers could _see_ them doing their unthinkable deeds. This place was a _voyeur's heaven._

"That's okay," Mohinder lowered his voice, husky and deep, in an attempt to hush himself after realising what could happen, "I _like_ to be spied on - let them watch." The other man soon carried on with his duty.   
  
But Peter became _fascinated_ by what they had found together, this niche of reality where they could _love_ each other and _be_ loved back. He was unsure whether such a scene would work in real life, and if the actual event would officially _exist_ when time resumed. I mean, if the three of them couldn't pinpoint the exact moment this had happened on a linear timeline, could they say they'd even done this _at all?_ And would Mohinder, Hiro, or even _himself,_ remember afterwards?

Branching off from his friends, he wandered along the lonely carriage, examining the people who _certainly_ wouldn't know. Their clothes felt starched, like cardboard - quite immovable - and pained expressions that could last forever were etched upon their faces. He pawed at their pale skin, smiling as the gentle tugging of a beard caused an old man's head to flop forwards. There were many things running through his mind right now, _some_ of which were possible, but nearly _all_ were immoral.   
  
He really hoped that they _would_ keep their memories, he thought, playing with the elastic strap of a beautiful girl's bra. He slid his hand around her front, lifted her breast from out of the cup and fondled her tit before putting it back. Alright, so he had given in to temptation, but only this _one_ time. The rest of his time was just spent pondering, gazing and--

"Get back here," Mohinder groaned, dropping his pants on the dirty, chewing-gum ridden floor, "I need you, Peter - take me now!"

He sped over to the pair, nearly knocking several people down like ninepins as he made his way back. Hiro kissed him again - the way he'd always wanted to taste the tougher, sweaty, vest-wearing Future Peter, but never dared. Though one thing he _did_ know - he wouldn't look at him in the same way again, once he had returned _home._ He stood aside and let Petrelli in.

With the help of his spit, the New York nurse hastily entered Suresh from behind and began to bang and bang away, back and forth, with only the sight of that donor poster in mind. "Don't give your heart to just anyone," he muttered aloud as he hit home, spilling into him. And with that he lay panting, spent and slumped over Mohinder's aching back. He let go of his sides, the imprints of his love so strong, dark tips remained on the flesh between the ribs. Not unlike the radioactive marks of a friend that he was _soon_ to _see._

"When all of this is over," the Indian shrugged him off, dressing himself quickly, "Will you even _know_ that I already _have_ given my heart? "

They both glanced upwards to see Hiro walking away - it was hard to see, but the shadow was becoming smaller and therefore must have been further out. Choosing no words but to turn around for a second and pass a calm nod their way, he faded into the crowd. The strips of blue lighting flickered on, off, and eventually on again. The tube train rattled on the rails and shook, from side to side, this batch of bemused people, who didn't have a clue. Hiro didn't take the time to say goodbye. But then again, what was _time_ anyway?


End file.
